ISOLATED TRAVELLING
Travel Blogger Cancelled for Never Actually Leaving His House
Fine — I’ll actually travel
This month on Don’t Go There!, I went to a place and I saw some monuments. I guess there were some people who had a castle or a big house. Their great-great-great-great grandpa conquered its land and slaughtered the villagers and got his name on the plaque. THE END
Sorry. I thought that’s what ‘real’ travel bloggers do. Of course, I wouldn’t know.
Fine. I’m not a real travel blogger.
Thanks! Maybe next time you’re feeling so sanctimonious, DM the person directly so you don’t totally destroy their business. Better yet, write your complaint on a piece of paper, tear it up and shove it up your ass.
FINE! I’ll start fact-checking now, I guess. There is nothing that says you have to travel to be a travel blogger. You probably think ‘Sandwich Artist’ is an actual title. You say, ‘but it’s in the name.’ People merely assume you have to wreck your coccyx on a rickshaw to be a travel blogger.
Maybe if I actually left my house, I would have saved Mr. Johnson from a late-life career change. You send one set of Winnebago retirees to the wrong Meat Market — I mean what are the odds that there are two places with the same name in the same town? Was it my fault that the Meat Market has senior stripper amateur night?
Who becomes an ass when you assume?
Apparently me.
I never had to visit a diner to tell you the food is probably the best in town and probably the worst for you. I don’t need to visit a zoo to convince you it smells like shit. Should I rate zoos on their odor levels? I didn’t need to go to more than one small town to see their ‘Largest Ball of Whatever’ to tell you they probably think their shit don’t stink.
It’s the ‘Largest Glob of Snot,’ Millersburg, not the fucking Holy Grail. Get over yourself.
I actually tried pulling up to places in a red convertible. I even bleached my hair and hired Mayor Guy Fieri’s tanning expert to travel with me. All I got out of that were confused looks from people in overalls and dry, wispy hair that was falling out anyway, and a humongous credit card balance from Ray’s Rent-a-Car.
I did get real good at PhotoShop. As long as your followers see it in front of panoramic vistas in Colorado, street markets in New Hampshire, and that donut shop with that big donut on top where Iron Man ate a donut.
Besides, I hear Mister Johnson is doing quite well in tips alone at the Meat Market.
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